Starstruck
by Brianna Jackson
Summary: AU: Growing up in L.A., Katniss Everdeen was no stranger to handsome men with extravagant lives. They made no impression on her. That is, until she met Peeta Mellark.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The slow crunching sound of metal fills the car before I have a moment to register the pain. The the air bag is dispensed, sending me flying backwards into my seat, my head falling securely in the headrest as my car comes to a stop. I squeeze my eyes shut, in a way, trying to protect myself from whatever is coming next. In the moment, I'm sure it's death. The sounds, the taste of blood, the screams I heard from innocent bystanders. Yes, surely, I'm dying. There is no way around it.

But it doesn't come and a moment later I open my eyes. I'm in the same place I was before though my clothes are quite tattered by now and the long braid my dark hair was twisted in to has come undone. The bloods only coming from my lips which I'd gnawed on. Other than that, I'm whole. Fine. Well. I take a deep breath.

As cliche as it is, when I say the car had come out of nowhere, I truly mean the car had come out of nowhere. I'd checked my blind spot, twice, my rear view mirror, my side view mirrors. As far as I was concerned, making the right hand turn was a good decision. I was safe with that until I wasn't.

I unbuckle my seat belt with shaking hands, knowing whoever I'd just hit, wether it be my fault or not, is going to be the end of me. I'm only praying someone isn't hurt, not badly at least.

It takes me a moment to unjam my door. When I do, the harsh smell of burned rubber and gas fill my nose. I grimace. My reflection looks back at me as I survey the damage. My sunglasses hang lopsided of my face, a cut above my eyebrow that looks worse than it really feels, my clothes disarrayed. I take my time turning to really pay attention to the damage done to my car but when I do, my stomach sinks to my feet and I fight back tears.

Totaled. My car is surely totaled. With no money for a new one, it looks like I'll be busing my way around the streets of L.A. for however long it takes. Probably the rest of my life.

"Fuck!" I yell without thinking. People all around me turn to look but I ignore them. I pull at pieces of my hair, stomping my feet nervously as I move about. I shake. "Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck_!"

"Are you okay?" A voice calls out to me, a soft hand grasping the underside of my elbow. I jump, pulling away from the stranger and turning to face him.

The first thing I notice about the man is how strikingly handsome he is. His hair is dirty blonde, hidden underneath a baseball cap, his face smooth in ways I didn't know were humanly possible, his jaw strong and straight forward. He tips his head back to study my face and his blue eyes catch the light. I'm breathless. He can't be any older than me, younger if anything. He isn't the tallest but he's strong, muscular. His body not unreal but nice, good. He was like a lot of men you see in L.A. these days but there was something about him I couldn't shake.

I begin to focus when I notice the purple bruising on his jaw and the slightest bit of dried blood on the corner of his mouth. Right. The accident. He must have been the driver. Or the passenger. Regardless, he was in the car, just as hurt as I am. I look past him, his BMW crushed, the back bent in a weird angle.

"Is everyone okay?" I ask. My heart sinks. How inhumane of me to not even question wether or not anyone else in the other car was seriously injured. I could have killed someone and then I'd have a lot more problems in my life than a totaled car.

He shakes his head. "Just me and I'm okay." I take another glance over his body but, this time, not for pleasure. Just to make sure he is in one piece. He looks no worse than I do. "I'm really sorry. I don't even know what the hell just happened to be honest!" He rubs the back of his head and I'm distracted by the small piece of his shirt that lifts, revealing a thin layer of skin and a little of his boxers. I rub my eyes and look away before my mind puts me too far down the rabbit hole.

"I don't either but shit," I say again. I rub temples. "What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Look at my car!" My poor Honda. I'd had the damn thing since high school and as old and sad as it was, it held many good memories between it's tinted windows. I was ready to see it go but not like this.

Maybe it's the weight of the day or the tiredness in my mind or, maybe, I actually did cause some physical damage to my head but I start to cry. I sink to my knees and cover my eyes with the palms of my hands and cry. I don't know for how long but the man doesn't make a move towards me or try to comfort me. He just lets me cry. It's moments later when I hear the ambulance that I finally look up.

"Are you hurt?" He asks. He's removed his hat and, now, with nothing to hide behind, I can't help but realize how familiar he looks to me. I shake my head. "The ambulance is just going to check you out anyway. I think your forehead might need some stitches."

I don't have a chance to answer before I'm being hauled away by two paramedics who are speaking to each other fairly quickly. I give them my information as they work. Turns out their equipped for stitches in the back of an ambulance. Twenty minutes later I'm stitched up and ready to go. They assure me there is no permanent damage.

"Feeling better?" He sits beside me on the back of the ambulance, ice pack to his jaw, sucker in his mouth like a child. When I don't answer, he continues. "I called the tow truck and they should be here pretty soon to take the car away. I don't think it's totaled but it'll need some pretty hefty repairs. Of course, I'll cover that."

"Are you trying to insinuate that I don't have money of my own?" I snap.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head furiously. "Not at all but it was my fault and I'll pay for it. It's only right. If you want, you can pay half or seventy precent or whatever. I just think, since I'm responsible, I should pay _something_."

I turn away. No matter how much pride I have, I know I can't really tell him no. I have money, just not a lot. Not enough to fix whatever needed to be done to my car. Being a teacher had it's perk in many ways, just not in terms of my bank account. Living in L.A. didn't help too much either.

"Okay," I finally say because the stillness has become too much. "Okay."

We sit in silence as we wait for the tow truck. I realize now I've called no one at the school to tell them why I'm not in and why thirty-two fourteen year old's are sitting unattended in my english classroom. Surely, when I show up with stitches on my face and without a car tomorrow, they'll understand and be more than forgiving. At least I hope. I really needed this job.

"Do I know you?" I finally ask after awhile. He turns to me with an amused glance and shrugs his shoulders. I frown at his vagueness. I wasn't one for conversation but even I knew not to be this rude. "Do you know me?"

He smiles again, a dimple appearing on only one his cheeks. It's charming, in a way. He holds out his hand to me in greeting and I take it, shaking tightly. "Peeta Mellark."

It comes to me immediately and I don't know how I hadn't seen it before. Of course. Of course, Peeta-fucking-Mellark would hit my car. Only one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood right now. He was on the cover of every magazine, in - what felt like - every movie, and appeared on every talk show across America for the past two months or so. The only thing any of the girls in my classes could talk about was Peeta Mellark. And here I am. Standing in front of him, bloodied bandage on my eye, one mental breakdown under my belt. I let out an exasperated sigh.

"It only makes sense that this would happen to me," I mumble under my breath, picking at my fingernails. Despite knowing who he is, I don't feel any less nervous than I did before. His good looks had numbed me and his name had done the same.

"You never told me your name," Peeta says then. He puts the cap back on his head, then his sunglasses, falling into the shade the ambulance provides. It finally occurs to me know why we're drawing such a crowd when all along I just thought it was due to the ugly accident.

"Katniss," I say. "Katniss Everdeen."

"That's a beautiful name," he comments. I blush because no one has ever told me that before. "Where is it from?"

"A water plant," I say. "It's edible and grows on the marshes of lakes. My father didn't have too much money growing up so they ate a lot of katniss and he'd always been fond of the name so."

Peeta actually looks interested as I talk and once I'm done, he jumps into a story about his own name and how it came from his parents owning a bakery. He jokes and, despite how melancholy I feel, makes me laugh. He's charismatic in a way a lot of people his age - well, our age - weren't. It was no surprise people loved him so much. Hell, he'd almost killed me and I couldn't find it within myself to find a flaw within him.

"Why were you driving so fast, Peeta?" I ask then. Our cars have been moved and now all that's left to do is wait for the rentals and, for Peeta, his management team. The paramedics allow us to stay in the back of the ambulance and I have a feeling it has a lot to do with the blonde sitting beside me.

He looks embarrassed and runs a hand on the back of his neck. His entire body seems to burst into flames. He raises a hand and points far off into the distance, towards tiny black spots I hadn't noticed until now. "Paparazzi," he says. "They just make it kind of hard for me sometimes and I just wanted to get away. Then I hit you so now I'm stuck."

He tries to joke about it but I can't help but feel sorry for him. Living in L.A., paparazzi wasn't something unseen. In fact, I saw it almost daily. I'd never given any thought to how frustrating, how hard, it must be to have people follow you around everywhere you go, documenting everything you do from day to night.

"You could tell them to just go fuck themselves," I say. Peeta laughs beside me and I turn to look at him. "You could. You could say 'go fuck yourself you fucking piece of fucking shit' and get on with the rest of your day with a smile on your face. Then you wouldn't have to go around getting into wrecks with every person you see."

He shakes his head beside me with an amused smile on his face. "You see, I don't think my publicist would be too happy with that one," he says. "You know, Kat-"

"Katniss," I interrupt. He eyebrows crease. He hadn't even realized he'd done it. But I noticed. "I don't like Kat." No ones called me that but my father. To this day the name unsettles me.

He puts his hands in the air, mocking me, but a smile is on his face. "Anyway, _Katniss_," he continues. "You can't just tell people to fuck off whenever you want. You won't get very far in life that way."

"Maybe not," I shrug. "But I work with fourteen year olds everyday. Every know and again, you need to tell them to fuck off or you won't ever get anywhere." Peeta's eyes widen almost comically like most people's do when I tell them this. Cursing at students wasn't something that was "allowed" but it wasn't something that was punishable either. The kids had trucker mouths as is and adding another fuck in there wasn't going to hurt anyone.

"So you're a teacher?" I nod. "A high-school teacher. That seems pretty rough. Never in a million years could you pay me enough money to become a high-school teacher."

"I like the kids," I say. "The age their at, it may seem like a hard one, but that's just because their all trying to figure out life. It's interesting to see who these kids turn in to. Besides, I was never built to teach kids any younger than fourteen. I'd send them home crying every day. Some kids, even now, I do."

Peeta laughs and nods his head in understanding. I wonder if he really does or if he was one of those Hollywood stars who went to the most prestigious high schools the city had to offer. Wherever he went, i'm sure high school is high school.

A black Escalade pulls in front of the ambulance and I know it's not for me. I wait for Peeta to move and to say his goodbye's but he doesn't. He waits beside me, looking off into the distance, past the line of people screaming for his attention, towards the hills.

In a matter of seconds, people burst from the car like a swarm of ants, picking here and shouting there. Before I know it, their ushering me away behind Peeta into the car. "Hey! Hey!" I yell to get someone's attention but they all ignore me. "Stop! I need my things!" My purse is thrust into the van some time after I am. Then the door is closed and the chaos is over.

I look at Peeta who seems unfazed. He's watching me, his eyebrow cocked up in question, a smile on his face. "Sorry. I guess I should have mentioned I volunteered to take you wherever you needed to go."

"You didn't need to do that," I say. He has to know this act will only cause attention. It would have been much simpler if he'd just gotten in the Escalade and driven away into the great unknown. "Paying for my car is more than enough. I don't need you to taxi me anywhere."

"C'mon, Katniss," he huffs. "I'm just trying to be a nice guy. Give me some lead way here, okay?" His phone rings in his pocket. He holds up one finger, telling me to wait, and proceeds to answer the call. Whoever it is isn't too happy with him. I mind my business and stare out of the window. The paparazzi are gone, so are the crowd of people. I'm glad for it.

"Sorry about that," he apologizes, throwing his phone into his pocket. Being this close to him, I notice the freckles that clutter his face, the slight curl his hair takes, the crooked way his lips turn when he smiles. "Where am I taking you?"

I blink. Right. "Um," I mutter. "To the school. I need to be there to explain myself."

I really should take one day off, just to gather my bearings. No one wouldn't believe me is I told the story tomorrow but regardless, I'd promised a few kids they could come in at lunch to finish their book reports that were due yesterday. I need to be there for them and if I get there now, it could still happen.

"What school do you work at?" He asks. He whispers something into his drivers ear that I can't hear.

"Panem Hills," I say. "It's on the west side of town. It's a ways. If you want to drop me off at my apartment I could have a friend drop me off on her lunch-"

"Enough, Katniss, I'll take you," Peeta interrupts. "I live around their anyway." He does? The neighborhood was a nice one but affordable, not too extravagant. I don't know why, but I'd always imagined Peeta would live in this large house with twenty rooms and four pools and six garages for his forty cars like the houses you saw on Cribs. But maybe I was wrong.

The ride is silent after that. I don't know what to say, neither does Peeta, and his driver hums quietly to the music coming from the car radio. I realize how reckless this may have been. I don't know the man and I let him put me in the backseat of his car. Was I really even going to his apartment or was he taking me to a ditch to hide the body?

"You're not a serial killer, are you?" Peeta blinks, looking over at me with wide eyes. I catch his driver looking through the rear view. When our eyes meet, he looks away.

"Do I look like a mass murderer?" He jokes. I'd be worried I offended him but he smiles and I know I'm forgiven. I blush. "Even if I was, you probably should have asked that before you were placed in the back seat of my car." More silence. "And I would never make it as a serial killer. I have too many people around me at all times to be successful in that kind of work."

"You're over thinking this, Mr. Mellark," I say but I smile. He's watching me and I turn to watch him. We stare in silence for awhile. I have to look away eventually. I'd never been any good at flirting.

Were we flirting? Is Peeta Mellark flirting with me or is this just some pigment of my imagination twisting and turning these images? It'd been awhile since anyone showed interest in me and vice verse. The last person may have been Gale...

"We're here, Katniss," he says, tugging on the sleeve of my shirt. I look up. Sure enough, here we are. A student of mine, Ronnie, is standing by the front doors smoking a cigarette. I'd just caught him last week in the boys bathroom upstairs. I sigh.

"You think these kids would understand that cigarette's kill," I mutter, mostly to myself, but I see Peeta nod his head in agreement. "Ronnie!" I yell out the window. He jumps and throws the butt into the bushes. "What did I tell you?"

He begins his long strings of apologies but I have my back turned so I don't hear them. Peeta is watching me in awe. I'm not sure why. "Thank you for the ride," I say. But that's when words fail me because I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say next. He'll be in contact with me about the car, surely, but for some reason, I want more than that. "You'll call my insurance about the car?"

Peeta nods his head sadly as if he'd forgotten all about how we'd gotten to this point. "Once again, I'm so sorry about the car. I'm glad you're not hurt," he apologizes. His cheeks blush and he turns away. "It was nice to meet you, Katniss. I'll be seeing you soon to work out what needs to be done about the car."

I nod. I'd never been in an accident and I'm not sure if seeing him directly about the car was what was supposed to happen but I don't object to it. Without saying another word, I turn. Ronnie's gone. I decide to let it go for now.

When I look back, the cars gone.

...

"So you'll never believe what happened to me today?" Johanna sits at her desk, feet propped up on the wooden table, her own copy of All Quiet on the Western Front open. She looks up at me as I walk through the door but quickly returns to her book. She grunts in curiosity. "I got in a car accident on the way to work."

This catches her attention and she looks up at me, worry sketched across her face. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen the expression on her. Johanna was never one to worry, always cool, calm, and collected. Wild and crazy but in a way that didn't interfere with her emotions.

Johanna and I had been friends since college. She went to UCLA like I had. Full ride like I had. Wanted to be an actor then a poet but settled on being an english teacher. Just like I had. Our relationship was inevitable and when we'd both gotten jobs at Panem Hills, we'd gone ahead and opted to get an apartment together. The two of us were never apart but yet we never got sick of each other. At least not yet.

"Are you okay?" She screams. Her fingers touch the bandage covering my eyebrow. "Why didn't you call me, Katniss? I would've been there in a second. Jesus christ!"

I push her greedy hands away. "Didn't need to," I say. "I was fine. Besides, guess who hit me?"

"Someone famous, I'm guessing."

"Peeta Mellark."

"No-fucking-way!" She curses. Johanna wasn't one to get star struck but I know she had a sweet spot for Peeta ever since seeing him play that dying cancer patient in whatever movie that was last summer. Secretly, it'd struck a cord with me too but I tried to hide it. "Is he as gorgeous in real life as he is on the big screen?"

I blush and nod. "He's even more spectacular." I can't believe I've said the words out loud. But there they are. There is no taking them back. "He offered to buy me a new car or fix the damage. Then he sat in the back of the ambulance with me while I got my stitches and then he gave me a ride here. Isn't that crazy?"

"So crazy," she agrees. Her eyes are glazed and she looks lost. "What the fuck, what are the odds?"

We sit in silence. What are the odds that Peeta might end up with a girl like me? Call it a school girl crush but the odds seemed to certainly be in my favor if this morning was any indication.

"Too bad he's dating that Glimmer girl, huh?"

No. The odds were certainly not in my favor.

* * *

for some reason I was watching Sex and the City and this idea came to me and it literally has nothing to do with Sex and the City buuuuttttt….

don't ask. I don't know.

thanks again.

-B


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I spend the next three hours in a meeting. Effie rants about my publicity, Haymitch drinks beside me quietly, the rest of my management team talks loudly over one another, not really voicing coherent ideas, just bickering with each other about ways to control my life. I repeat, _my_ life. I'm tired of it all, I choose to spend the rest of the time following after Haymitch, drink after drink after drink.

"We need to do something about this accident!" A blonde intern yells. She's loud and gets everyone's attention. They turn towards her and she cowers into the back. She hadn't meant to be heard but here she was now, center stage. Effie encourages her to go on. "I mean, it's great that he stopped to help the girl and all but it was still an accident and he was still driving at well over one hundred miles per hour. The media is no doubt going to spin this to make it sound like he's having some sort of middle life crisis at twenty-four!"

Blonde intern has a point though I don't say anything. Our eyes meet for a moment and then she looks away. She could make it big in this town if she can get some confidence behind her. I drink the last of my whisky. "Yeah. They don't want to say that the real reason I drive so fast is too make sure they don't stick their cameras through my mirrors for a fucking-"

"Watch the language!" Effie scolds. Her hand slaps down on the cold wood and she looks at me with more ferocity than I'd ever seen. She hadn't been the happiest with me in the past weeks. They hadn't been my best in terms of my public image and she was left dealing with it all. I was making her job very hard but then again, what was I paying her for? "Besides the point that you were obviously provoked by the paparazzi, you were still driving dangerously! All I can say is that you better count your blessings that no one was seriously hurt or killed, Peeta!"

I stay silent, feeling the way I did when I was twelve and my parents would scold me for eating too many cookies after dinner. I look at Haymitch for help but he's dozing in and out of sleep and I doubt he's heard a piece of what Effie said. I don't know why I paid him so much just to drink. I guess I liked having him around.

"So what do I do? Support road safety, tweet about being smart, give money to a organization? What?" I hate the way I sound when the words leave my mouth. I sound stuck up, snobby, like a famous hollywood actor. And that's what I was but not what I wanted to be. At least not all the time.

But no one could fault me for saying such things now because the only reason this meeting was called was to figure out a way to save my ass. And that's all I was doing. I look to Effie who looks to blonde girl who looks to Haymitch who is, officially, asleep. I sigh and lean back into my chair, waiting for instruction and passing the time by running my lines for today's scene through my head.

"You won't do anything," the new intern, whose name I think is Rue, says. Unlike the blonde, she doesn't hide when I look her way. Maybe that's why I've taken the time to learn her name. "If you get asked about it interviews, you make jokes. You do the noble thing and get the girl a new car. And that's that. I think we're trying to make this a bigger thing than it is."

I like Rue. Effie stands with her hands on her hips, thinking for a long time before she finally starts nodding her head. She kicks Haymitch's leg with the toe of her heel and wakes him with a start. When he's finally regained consciousness, Effie fills him in on what Rue said. "I think she's the first person on this team who has suggested the truth," he jokes. "I like you, kid. Good idea. We're going with that!"

He leaves then, stumbling from his chair and out of the door without anything else to say. I wish I could follow him but I know there is much more to be said.

For the remaining four hours, Effie explains to me the importance of building my relationship and forming a bond with Glimmer off screen that's going to be apparent in front of cameras. "The press isn't buying it and we need them to buy it!"

The press wasn't buying it because none of it was true. When Glimmer and I had started promoting our movie, Midnight in Paris, last summer, our "off screen relationship" was all any of the reporters could talk about. At that point, we were nothing more than coworkers. I didn't like the girl. But people began buying so far in to the romance that our managements couldn't ignore it any longer. So that's how Glimmer and I become one, in a way, though things off camera were a lot harder than anyone would've thought.

Glimmer is a pretty girl but that's about it. She's rude, arrogant, cynical. She isn't at all the person she lets the public believe she is. If only they knew the things she said when no cameras were around. When it was only me and her.

The "relationship" was only supposed to be for a year, just to play up the movie and help it at the box office. That had worked but now, everyone wanted more. They wanted a real, story book, romance and we weren't delivering it. Well, at least I wasn't. Glimmer, in this sense, was a much better actress than I was. I guess I just didn't like bringing my work home.

"When do we get to call it quits on this thing?" I gripe, chewing on my nail. I'd been asking this question for months now and I was still lacking a clear answer.

Effie rubs her temples with the pads of her fingers and finally sits at the table across from me. "Peeta, you know right now isn't the best time to do that. You're about to have a new movie out and the last thing you're going to need to do is have a scandal tied to your name. You've always said you wanted your fame to be about-"

"The art but I think it's safe to say that we've lost that," I finish for her. It's true. When I'd gone to performing arts school, I was fine with doing indies for the rest of my life, avoiding fame but getting to do what I loved. But then I'd gotten the part in Midnight in Paris and at twenty-four, it's hard to ignore half a million dollars being dangled in your face. "I just want to get away from all that drama for awhile and focus on my acting. Their saying that Castaway has the possibility to run for an Oscar. That _I_ might win one. When that happens I'm not sure I want to walk the carpet with Glimmer and have-"

"Peeta, believe us when we tell you that having Glimmer on your arm during Oscar season will be something the both of you will want in terms of your careers," Effie interrupts. There is no use in arguing with her so I don't. I sit silently. "Anyway, she's a lovely girl to have around. I don't see why you're so anxious to get rid of her, Peeta. Truthfully."

There were a lot of reasons I was anxious to get rid of her but none I would voice aloud at this table, in front of a lot of scared interns who'd go running to the first magazine they saw. That was the last thing I wanted. There was no use in getting pinned as a joke for the rest of my life if a publicity stunt like this was brought to the public eye.

"Grin and bear it, boy," Haymitch says, almost as if reading my mind. I wonder how he got to where he did in this industry. He drinks his days away, doesn't have the personality to strive in a group of people, nor is he really kind to anyone. Maybe it's the brutal honesty. Maybe. "It'll be over before you know it and then you can go on banging whatever flavor of the month you want!"

I roll my eyes. I didn't want a flavor of the month. Truth be told, I wanted a twenty-four year old high school english teacher.

...

When I arrive on set, I learn I only have one scene to shoot before I get to go home for the day. This'll be good news for Glimmer who has been pestering me about taking her on a public "date" to cause some talk about the two of us. Things had been plenty quiet lately and that couldn't mean anything good. At least not for her.

So I sit in my trailer until their ready for me. Marvel and Cato had gone home for the day, shooting the scene they had earlier this morning at the brink of dawn. So I'm really alone on this one and spend the hours going through social media, replying to a few excited fans, and having a nice conversation with my father on the phone.

I'm just about to tell him about my accident - the wreck but mostly Katniss - when there is a knock on my door. Annie, the production assistant, is standing before my door. She smiles at me sadly. "Sorry champ! We need you on set in five to finish the scene."

I smile at her. "Sorry dad, looks like I've got to go." I say into the phone. We say our goodbye's and I fall into step with Annie, following her through the winding building on to set where they've managed to recreate a teenage bedroom. "How long until we're done?"

Annie scrunches her nose and runs a hand through her red hair. Strands fall to the ground. "No telling. Snow wants to recreate a few scenes. He didn't like the way they turned out so he's hoping to transform them into Oscar-worthy scenes!" She wiggles her hands theatrically and smiles. "I don't know. I'm guessing a month, maybe more."

It seems like we'd been working on "Castaways" for years now. It hadn't been more than six months but it was longer than I'd ever worked on a movie before. But like Annie said, the movie was Oscar worthy. It'd be stupid to turn down the chance to work with Snow on a film. Everything he touched would turn to gold. I knew how hard the production would be when I accepted the role. Now I just had to live with it.

"Go get em'," she calls. I wave to her and walk to my place, across from a pile of extras and the sound team.

"On my count. One, two, three, action!"

...

The flashing lights are blinding as I stumble numbly from the back seat of the Escalade, shielding my eyes with sunglasses which are doing nothing to help. My name is screamed as soon as I step from the car in all directions, most deep male voices but a few high pitched screams who I know must be coming from innocent bystanders who were just in the right place at the right time. Regardless, I keep my head down.

I shrug away Thom, my driver, and open the door myself for Glimmer. No matter what kind of relationship this way, my father had always taught me to be a gentleman and those weren't traits I was just going to leave behind.

Glimmer slips out after me but looks a lot happier than I do to be displayed in front of the public eye. She waists no time raising her hand above her head, smiling brightly and blowing kisses to her cameras. I move out of her way to allow her time to pose, showing off the light pink dress she wears, before cowering into my side, suddenly shy and not at all gracious for the attention.

"I wasn't expecting so many of them," she says into my ear. "I don't know how they get wind of this so quickly. I'd thought we'd lost them on the highway but I guess not."

I don't say anything and take ahold of her hand, following behind her as she pushes through the crowds of people. Her security steps out in front of the two of us, yelling loudly for people to back up. They part, making room for us as we climb through the glass door to the restaurant. The tinted windows help dull the flash of the bulbs.

"I swear, I'll never get used to that!" She tells the hostess, smiling at her gently. The girl looks at a lost for words, looking between Glimmer and I with her mouth hanging wide open. It takes her a moment to regain her composure. "Just the two of us please. If there is seating in the back, we'd enjoy that."

We follow her to a remote table in the back of the restaurant. On the way there, we sign a few autographs and take a few pictures. Nothing too bad. At least not for going out in public. Some days, it took us almost forty-five minutes to get seated just trying to make it to the back of the restaurant. But that's the price you pay, no?

"Thank you," I whisper to the hostess, pulling out Glimmer's seat for her and taking the one opposite. I look down at the menu and scowl. Italian food. I was quickly growing to hate italian food. "What are you getting? The shrimp pasta sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

Glimmer nods her head from side to side. "I'm allergic to shell fish, Peeta, don't you know that." I roll my eyes.

"I wasn't suggesting that you get that. I was just saying that it sounded good," I snap. "I'll get something else so you can eat off my plate." She always did and before, it didn't annoy me too much. But now, every time she did it, I wanted to cut her hand off with my butter knife. "The pizza sounds good. I might just get-"

"Are we really about to talk about food for a two hour dinner?" She interrupts. The waitress comes by to get our drink orders. "Wine, please." She turns to leave and Glimmer grads ahold of her sleeve, pulling her back. "The whole bottle. _Please_."

I wait until she's gone to lean in, our noses nearly touching. It's a move that'll look intimate to anyone on the outside but it's just a precaution to ensure no one hears what's said. "Be careful with what you do here, and order, and say, please. The last thing we need is for that girl to go out to those reporters outside and falsify all the things we said in here."

The waitress is back and we pull apart. She fills our wine glasses to the brim. When she finally turns to leave, Glimmer rolls her eyes. "That's what she's going to do anyway, Peeta, don't be dumb. Besides, whatever they pay her to say out there, we'll double. It's easy. Money talks, don't you know."

I did know that. I knew that better than anyone. It still blowed me away how little my Hollywood friends could care about what they spent and where and on what. Maybe it's because they came from money and I came from a family who owned a bakery. There were differences in the way I saw change and the way they did. I hope I never lose my sense of reality when it came to that. I hope my children never ended up that way either.

"Anyway, I was hoping you'd accompany me to the People's Choice Awards next Sunday," Glimmer says, finishing off a breadstick. I don't know when she'd gotten off of her diet. She'd spent the last three weeks telling me about it. I shrug. It wasn't like she really needed it anyway. "I'm presenting and all so I'd like you to walk the red carpet with me."

"Effie already asked me," I tell her. Effie actually hadn't asked me anything more so than told me. She'd had me fitted for a suit yesterday before shooting. "I'll be there but I'm not sure I want to walk to red carpet. I have to shoot that day so I might just have to meet you there."

Glimmer dramatically rolls her eyes and crosses her arm, pouting like a child. "Great, Peeta. What am I supposed to tell people when they start wondering where you are, huh? That you were too busy to come support your girlfriend?"

"That's exactly what you're supposed to tell them," I exclaim. I say it a little too loudly and a few tables turn to look our way. I clench my jaw and try my best to calm myself down. It was hard around her when my nerves were already on overdrive. "I'm sure they'll understand. It isn't unheard of for actor's to have to work on movies, you know? It will be no big deal. I'll be there by the time the show starts."

"Don't be a smart ass, Peeta. I just don't want everyone to think we're hiding something." Well we are, aren't we? I say nothing. I cross my arms over my chest to and when the waitress comes to take our orders, we both snap them out at her. She runs away quickly. "We're not doing a very good job at mending this relationship, are we?"

I laugh humorlessly, running my hands over my face. Oh right. That's what we were supposed to be doing. "No, I can't say we are," I mumble. "You're a pretty tough girlfriend to keep around. I can't be the easiest boyfriend to keep around either."

"Are you having sex?" I snap my head up and pinch in my eyebrows. "Don't give me that look, Peeta. Are you having sex? I mean, with anyone other than me."

"We've never had sex," I say. We'd had out fair share of kisses but never in private. Just in front of cameras or at award shows or banquets. But never ever ever alone.

"Exactly my point," she says. "Are you having sex? I'm sure your mood would improve tremendously if you started getting laid or something. That is the only thing keeping my sane in this loveless marriage."

"Who are you having sex with?" My tone isn't jealous, more annoyed. Glimmer shrugs her shoulders, obviously wanting to keep that a secret, and continues gnawing on her breadstick in earnest. "I'm not that kind of guy."

I leave out the small detail that I've only ever slept with two people. Both whom I thought I'd "loved" back in high school, one in college. Of course, love hadn't been the exact word I would have used to describe either of those girls anymore but regardless. I didn't just sleep around for the sake of scratching an itch. Sex still meant something. At least to me it did.

"You're too nice for your own good, Peeta." It isn't met as a dig, just an observation. She wasn't the first person to tell me this, she wouldn't be the last. I had no problem being the nice guy. "So tell me why the hell you got into a car accident yesterday?"

I sigh. I relay the story for what feels like the millionth time, even adding the details about the paparazzi and the things they were screaming and how frustrated I'd gotten leaving the gym yesterday. Glimmer seems to understand. Better than management and better than my parents did. Because it happened to her too and I'm sure there were times when she just wanted to speed away.

"You've got to be more careful about things like that, Peeta," she whispers after a moment. "I mean, you see what happens to people like Princess Diana and them. They get so crazy suddenly their running cars into walls. Bless her heart, sometimes it's the only way out."

It's crazy to think that in something so glamorous, death is the only option you have at having a peaceful life. The concept itself had always been a strange on to me. I was dong something I love that was turning into something I hate. "Times like this where I wish I had just stuck to doing indies all my life," I tell her, running my hands through my hair. Our waitress brings out food.

"You wouldn't be able to afford this dinner, that's for sure," Glimmer comments, digging into the lobster tail she ordered. I shrug. She has a point there. "Do you think the money's changed you yet? Or are you still fighting for the idea that you'll be the same Peeta Mellark forever?"

"I don't think anything's changed me yet," I say. "I hope it hasn't, at least. This will never be normal to me. I'm just trying to do something I enjoy and, yes, I'm very blessed to have a job that pays well. But even if it didn't, I can't say I would do anything different." I take a deep breath. "Here is the world's most cliche sentence but, I could do without the fame. I'd be happy without it, I think."

"But now you've got it and you have to decide what you're going to do with it," she says. "I've thought a lot about it and there's no putting it back now. You see what happens to these celebs who just try to disappear. It only makes you more desirable. So you've just got to go with the flow."

"But you don't ever feel like telling all those guys out there yelling nasty things at you to fuck off? You just sit here and take it?"

"None of them deserve to breath the same air as I do and I know that. It's the only thing keeping me sane. I am above them and they will always, _always_, no matter what picture they take, be below me. So while their down there they can kiss my perfect ass and keep it moving."

I smile. There were times when I liked Glimmer. Mostly not but there were moments when I could see us being friends after our management teams deciding we could pull the plug on the "relationship".

She raises her wine glass to me and clink mine against hers. She smiles slightly. "To being the baddest mother fuckers in this town."

I drink to that.

* * *

I'm so humbled by the response I've received about this story! I can't explain how nice it is to hear feedback - positive or negative - about my writing. I know it's sometimes different and a little hard to follow but I hope it's, at least, interesting!

But what I've learned is I don't always need to write for an audience but just to myself. As cliche as it is, do what makes you happy! My advice for the day. Thanks to the moon.

-B


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My stitches come out a week later, painless and easy as the doctor chats with me quietly about a number of things. Most of which, I don't care about but I entertain for her. She's an intern, she tells me, and I feel she probably hasn't had any real human contact in days. I remember when I wanted to be Pre-Med for that one year in college. It became evident very quickly what a bad idea that was.

"But he totally just walked out on me at dinner and that wasn't fair at all, don't you think?" I shake my head. I ignore how unprofessional she's being. I wouldn't be the one to bring it up. If she carried the behavior on for the rest of the day, I'm sure someone else would do it for me. "Right. So I called him and asked him why he did and he literally hung up the phone on me? Isn't that ridiculous!"

"Pretty shitty guy if you ask me," I mumble. She tugs particularly hard on one stitch and I flinch. "I had a boyfriend like that in college and, trust me, you don't want to waste your time on guys like that. Move on with your life. Have some fun!" My advice will probably fall short from the glazed look in her eyes. Besides, she wasn't much younger than I was. We'd had about the same life experience thus far.

"Thank you for listening to me," she whispers. She puts her tweezers down and pats my eye with a piece of gauze. "It shouldn't scar too much but if it does, just go to the drug store and get some medicine. And it's healed nicely. Keep taking the antibiotics and you should have no problems." I thank her. It's the first medical advice she's given me in the hour I've been here. "If there's any pus or itching or burning, we're going to need you to come back as soon as possible. We'll have to check for infection or reopening but that's rare."

"Thank you," I whisper, moving to the mirror to examine the wound myself. Like she said, it'd healed nicely from what I could tell. The bruising I had days before is gone, left behind with a little redness that is likely due to the irritation from her tweezers. The part of my eyebrow they'd needed to shave to get to the cut is already growing back. Thank god for that one. If I had to listen one more rude comment from an idiot freshman, I would have to lose my damn mind.

I leave the hospital then, keeping my head down and my eyes open as I pass a busy street to get to my rental car. Peeta's people had picked up the tab on it and put me in the nicest BMW the dealership had. I'd tried to talk them into giving me something more economical but they'd insisted. And really, there was no use in fighting it. It was the first nice thing I'd really had in my twenty-four years of life and it wasn't even mine to keep.

I pull out of the parking space, keeping my eyes open for any and everything. The streets of L.A. were a crazy thing, I'd learned.

When I'm leaving the hospital, it's only eight o'clock, the appointment taking less time than I thought meaning I had a full two hours to blow before I needed to be in class to relieve the sub they'd hired for the morning.

I wasn't always a nice person but, today, because I no longer had black stitching in my forehead, I decide to do something kind. So I take a left on a back street, heading straight for my favorite bakery about a mile down the road from the apartment Johanna and I share. The people there were nice, the prices were fair, the food is good. What's not to love about a place like that?

But my car is blocked in as soon as I turn onto the street by a line of traffic probably three miles wide. I groan. I would never grow used to this no matter how many years I lived here. You'd have to grow up in L.A. to understand the traffic and I certainly hadn't.

I grew up in a small town in southern California along the coastline. My father had grown up there, my mother one town over, and when they'd decided to settle down and have a family, there was no place better to raise their children. They'd both been swimmers back in their prime at UCLA. They'd grown up loving the water and taught my sister, Prim, and I to do the same. So we lived on the beach and swam and surfed and took part in all kinds of cliche, recreational activities. I used to love them. I hadn't learned to grow annoyed with them until much later. After my father left.

I don't know where my father is, but my mother still lived in our childhood home with her new husband - and I guess my step dad - Jeffery. He was a nice plumber who made a nice living and a nice husband. I couldn't be mad at my mother for going out and rebuilding her life. I mean, I'd done the same, really. I'd just run away to do it.

I sigh, rubbing my temples with the pads of my fingers. The last thing I needed was to be burdened with thoughts of my beautiful childhood and failed adolescents. That was a story - or a nightmare - all in it's own that didn't need to ruin this day. No my father or his habits didn't need to ruin this moment, not now. I would be happy. I am happy. I will be happy.

But the longer I sit in traffic, the angrier I get and when I finally, after thirty minutes of sitting, find a parking spot behind the bakery, I almost call out in relief. I refrain and walk with my head down around the building. The back door is always left unlocked, something very few people know, but the owners have grown so comfortable with Johanna and I, they don't mind sharing secrets every so often.

Today is no busier than usual and as I make my way to the front, smiling to the people I know and avoiding eyes from the one's I don't. My mother always told me my social insecurities would be the downfall of me. She was right in a lot of ways.

Edward, the owner of the bakery, meets me at the front when I finally make my way through the line. "Surprised you made it in today, Katniss. It's a madhouse out there." I turn towards the glass walls in the front. Flashing light's catch my attention. I groan.

"Do those people really have nothing better to do?" I say. Ever since my run in with Peeta, my annoyance with paparazzi in general has grown. Whenever I see the flashing lights from within a ten mile radius, I turn the other way in aggravation and outrage. "I would just crawl in a hole and die if those things followed me around day after day, wouldn't you?"

Edward shrugs, his curly black hair stuck behind baseball cap. "Kind of comes with the territory don't you think?" I shrug. "Wanna guess whose in here?" I turn around to survey the restaurant which is quiet. Whoever it must be must not be drawing a lot of attention to themselves. I spot no one even remotely familiar. "Eh, I won't tell you. He'll come out of the bathroom any minute now."

I shrug my shoulders, not really caring who is in the bathroom. I just want them gone so I can sail onto the main street in peace without the fear of hitting anyone. "I'm gonna need about two dozen bagels today, Edward. Make them all plain. I don't feel like dealing with whiners today."

He laughs and moves away from me to package my box while I swipe my card. When the transaction is done, I pull away to slump against the wall so he can help the next customer. "Katniss," he calls out to me. "I just put about ten bagels in the oven for you so they'll be fresh. It'll be ten, maybe fifteen more minutes if that's okay with you."

I nod my head. I had all the time in the world today. Fifteen minutes wouldn't kill me.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and scowl through Facebook with a permanent scowl on my face. I don't know why I still had the thing. It only annoyed me. But yet I couldn't find it within myself to delete my profile.

I have to admit, it did interest me the slightest bit to check up on Gale Hawthorne every so often, just to see how he's doing. He was my best friend and, at one point, much more than that. Is it really so strange that I want to make sure he's doing well for himself?

I go to his profile. From what I can tell, he's doing just fine. Surfing in Malibu daily and working club promotions during the night time with his surfer friends. I don't know any of them. It doesn't surprise me. He dumped everyone in our quote on quote "group" after the breakup. I guess I had to. Everyone but Johanna but all that meant for me was starting a life outside of who I was. What it meant for him was starting a life outside of me.

I try not to blame him too much. I did a number on his heart. I couldn't fault him for never wanting to speak or see me again outside of occasional Facebook posts.

I sigh and close the phone because guilt is starting to creep into my throat and suffocate me. Johanna tells me constantly to stop feeling guilty. I did what I had to do. I did what was good for me. But time after time, I'm reminding of the look in his eyes that night and the unshed tears he held in them.

I hear the bell on the top of the door ring. I turn my head a fraction of an inch, just out of habit, when I see just who the paparazzi are waiting for.

"Shit," I curse, unbraiding my hair faster than ever before and letting it fall in my face in loose waves. I somehow find my sunglasses buried deep within my purse and put them on my face, hiding my eyes and chewing on my lips for coverage.

Peeta stands a few feet away, studying the menu with a intense look on his face, his hands in his pockets. He hums to himself, the way he did in the car all those days ago, keys spinning on his forefinger. He talks to the old man beside him politely. He has no idea who he's talking to or what it means. He's just being friendly.

I don't know why I'm so embarrassed. I'd seen him before. I'd spoken to him before. I'd ridden in a damn car with him before and now I couldn't say hi? Now I was cowering behind a stand of expensive chips to hide from his gaze. And what is this feeling in my stomach? Butterflies? Oh no no no no.

But Peeta isn't looking in my direction at all. He doesn't look in anybody's direction, just up. And as I study the cafe, I realize no one is paying any attention to him either. No one but me and the unsuspecting old man. I sigh.

I can sneak out of here. It'll take me two seconds to slip out of the back and he'd never even known I'd been-

"Katniss!" Edward calls. He looks at me with wide eyes, holding my box of bagels in one hand, a box of cream cheese in the other. "Katniss, don't forget the food!" Oh yes, the food. Of course. How could I have forgotten? Shit.

Acting like I'm on the phone, I smile at him gratefully and take the box from his hands, mouthing a silent thank you before turning - opposite way of Peeta - and making my way towards the door. Maybe he hadn't heard. Maybe Edward's loud conversation had-

"Katniss!" I squeeze my eyes shut. This time, it's not Edward. No, it's Peeta, his eyes bright as I turn to greet him, a smile on his handsome face. Dammit. Why does he have to be so good-looking? "Are you on a call? Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Um," I stutter. "Bye, Jo. I gotta go. Talk to you soon!" I stuff the phone in my pocket and smile stiffly. "What a surprise seeing you here. I didn't know you came around my side of town."

"Your side of town?" He asks, eyebrow raised. "I didn't know you lived around here. It's a pretty cool neighborhood. Lot's of neat, local businesses I enjoy."

"I usually just stick to this one," I answer with a shaky voice. "Edward's nice and the foods good. My roommate and I spent a lot of time here in college, studying and what not. It's a good place to grade too."

Peeta smiles but I can tell he's not genuinely interested. Just as an excuse to leave is on the tip of my tongue, he grabs ahold of my elbow, much like he did the other day after the wreck, but this time softer, gentler. I stiffen. He releases me slowly. "Sorry. I probably just shouldn't grab people I don't know."

I laugh humorlessly. "It's just me. I'm a freak when it comes to comfort of any type. Don't blame yourself. That's just the way it is." I cough. "I should've known it was you with all this mess. Or Leonardo DeCaprio but I think this is about the time he vacations in the Hampton's."

Peeta laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "Actually, he's in Venice for the week. He texted me about an hour ago that he made it here safely." The shock on my face must be evident. He laughs even louder. "I'm just playing with you, Katniss, I've never met the guy. I actually hang out with nobody famous."

"That's not true," I say. I'd seen him in plenty of magazines with people like Finnick Odiar and Cato Alexander. I'd read they were childhood friends but, bringing it up now, seems weird. The last thing I want him to know is I spent a majority of my off period reading gossip websites about his personal life. Somehow, doing that didn't seem like the next level of friendship.

"Well, let's just say I try not to make it a habit," he mumbles. I nod my head. "How's the rental car treating you? I made sure you had the finest one in the lot. Couldn't have you riding around in some piece of shit."

"Hey," I tease. "I like my piece of shit cars, thank you very much. They're much more economical than the BMW I have parked out back." I pause. "But thank you. I know that's the appropriate answer and though I think having the finest car on the lot is a little outrageous, thank you for it."

Peeta chews on his bottom lip and looks me in the eyes, looking pleased with himself. "You seem like a pretty prideful girl so the fact that you're thanking me must mean something. No matter how back handed it may be, Ms. Everdeen."

"Oh, you should. That may be the only thank you you'll ever get so you better hold on tight to it." Peeta clutches his chest mockingly and closes his eyes as if savoring the moment. I laugh. Oh shit, were those butterflies again? "Anyway, I should probably get going."

"Oh right. It's a Thursday. Shouldn't you be at school, teaching a handful of bratty kids about orgasms and shit like that?"

I blush deeply. "Firstly, I think you mean organisms. Secondly, I'm not even a science teacher. I'm an english teacher," I say. He turns a shade darker than I do and closes his eyes. I laugh. "It's okay. Maybe we should be teaching them about those things too. Sex education is a very valued skill in today's society. Thank you, Peeta, I may just throw that into my lesson plans. I'll have them write an essay on it."

"And you'll think about me when you send all the fourteen year old boys out of class with boners, right?" He laughs. I stick my tongue out in disgust and cover my ear with my hands, fighting his words from my brain. "Totally kidding, Katniss. That sounds like the perfect way to lose your job and that's the last thing I want."

I tuck the box of food under my arm and hold it on my hip. "Don't worry. I'm pretty sure if they wanted to get rid of me for being inappropriate, they would've already."

"Very true. After all, you tell your students to fuck off," he says.

"You've got that right!" I say. I'm not really ready to part but I know I must be cutting it close to when I'm expected back at work. I smile sadly. "It was nice to see you again, Peeta. But I really need to get going. I'm sure our insurances have worked out everything by now so I guess I'll see you-"

"Can I get your number?" He interrupts. My heart beats in my ears. I must look like a deer in headlights cause he quickly back peddles. "I just mean, I feel really bad about the accident and I'd really like to make it up to you."

I look at him, bewildered. "Peeta, you're buying me a new car. That's doing more than enough for me. Please don't feel stressed about needing to buy me anything more or feel like you're repaying me by-"

"That wasn't what I meant at all," he huffs. "You're a cool girl and stuff, Katniss, and I'd really like to spend some more time with you. Just get to know you better. There aren't a lot of people in this town that I've met that I actually enjoy their company. But I enjoy yours and I'd like to keep enjoying it if that's what you want."

Without saying another word, I grab the napkin he holds on his hand, using my black pen to write down my seven numbers. I turn away without judging his reaction because I cannot contain the smile on my face.

...

"Ms. Everdeen, all I'm saying is I don't think it's fair that Hudson got a better grade than I did when, honestly, I did all the work. I did it all and all he did was sit there and make pretty eyes at Mary-Beth!"

I sit here and contemplate what would kill me quicker. Pouring chemicals into my ears until my brain disintegrated or hitting my head stop my stained wooden desk. I searched for an answer and quick.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Listen, Becky. Hudson got the higher grade than you did because his final report, the ones you had to turn in on your own, was better constructed than the one you'd turned in to me. I explained to the entire class at the beginning of this assignment that the paper would be 60% of the final grade. Yours lacked formal structure and-"

"Oh, that is bullshit!" Becky curses, her blonde hair bobbing in anger. She physically shakes. I can tell this is the kind of girl who doesn't like to take a "B". Any other teacher would surely punish her for the behavior. I would not. I applauded her for it. You'd get no where in the real world letting everyone trample you the way most kids did. And that's all us teachers were preparing our students for, no?

"I can look over your grade but I can't promise you I'll make any changes to it," I tell her. In my mind, I tell myself to give her two points, just to keep the parents off my back. "Next time, Becky, you might want to stick to writing to the rubric I gave you. That might suit you better next time around."

She whispers a silent thank you and leaves in a rush. The door slams behind her and I can feel her anger radiating off her and down the hall until it's gone. Becky was a good student who just had a minor slip up. She would figure it out when the time came.

A minute later, Johanna comes knocking on my door, coffee in hand and Mags, an older coworker of ours, flanking her. Mags was sweet, the librarian who had all too much free time on her hands. She was old and didn't talk much anymore but she was friendly enough and a good listener. I would consider her a friend and I didn't have too many of those.

"So the stitches are out," Johanna comments, her bright pink nails digging into the side of my head. "Did it hurt?"

I shake my head, grabbing my coffee from her. "Not one bit. The nurse was a little chatty but I got through it. Went and got the kids some bagels after," I tell her. They'd devoured the treat in ten minutes time. I barely had time to blink before all that's left were the crumbs. "Oh! And none other than Peeta Mellark happened to be at the bakery, simply looking for a good brunch."

Johanna's eyes widen and Mag's looks confused. "It's fucking fate, Katniss!" She cheers, throwing her arms out wide. I can see what she envisions before her eyes. I'd seen it too. "What are the odds that you two would run into each other in this town? What are the odds? This is fate. You two are meant to be."

"I wouldn't say that, Jo," I answer. Peeta was too much of everything for me. A normal girl would never last with someone like him. "It's weird, I know, but that's all. We didn't talk about anything but the car and then I was on my way." I pause. "Besides, someone like him wouldn't want someone like me. Not with Glimmer on his arm."

Johanna rolls her eyes and Mags looks at me sympathetically. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Katniss, you're a stone-cold fox! You see the way guys look at you when you go out, you just gotta work it."

"I'm not good at 'working it'," I snap, crossing my arms defensively. "It's a different kind of thing, Johanna. Guys who date girls like her don't date girls like me." I imagine Glimmer now. Her blonde hair, blue eyes, curvy body. She oozes sex appeal.

"Beauty comes from within, Katniss," Mags finally says. I look at her. "You are beautiful not only on the outside but on the inside and that's all that counts. A good man will see you for who you are." I smile. Mags has been my mother in so many ways since I've been out here. Hundreds of miles away from my own safety blanket, it's nice to have one close. "You'll find your prince in somehow who deserves your love and affection."

"That's the problem," Johanna says. "Gale has manipulated your mind into thinking you don't deserve love and affection."

I don't bother correcting her. As hard as I tried, I couldn't blame Gale for planting the thoughts in my head, not after the way I'd thrown him through hoops. After the emotional torment I'd put him through, maybe his words weren't too far off.

"Can't blame him for everything," I mumble.

"Oh right," she says loudly. "You're dad was a piece of shit too, I forget." Mags smacks the side of her leg but I can't help but smile. It was this Johanna who has been my friend for so long. Not the polite, reserved Johanna I saw every so often.

"Don't let the past stop you from trying," Mags whispers, running a hand over my arm. I shiver under her touch. "Fall down seven, stand up eight."

I smile.

* * *

Once again, I'm humbled by the response to this story. You guys are the best!

Did anybody see photos from the Met Gala? What was your favorite look?

I was offered an internship at Teen Vogue when I was in my teens but, unfortunately, couldn't take it due to money trouble growing up. But I never stopped loving fashion and though the time has passed me now, it will forever be one of my favorite aspects of art! Other than Everlark fan fiction of course :)

Thank you guys.

-B


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I'm buttoning the top button of my dress shirt when I hear the door to my apartment open, the security system beeping loudly before being silenced. I wait a few seconds then am greeted with Finnick's loud hollers from the front room as he calls out for me. "Peeta! Peeta, where are you, you asshole?" From the ring of his voice, I know he's already teetering on the point between tipsy and wasted. I sigh. It was going to be a long, long night.

"I hope you didn't drive here tonight, Finnick," I call out from my bathroom. I look in the mirror, displeased in my appearance but, then again, not having too much energy to care. I would be the talk of the tabloids in my purple dress shirt and khakis but when wasn't I? It seemed those people had to obligation to report on everything.

"Of course not, man," he slurs, sitting on the top of my toilet, mindlessly twirling a pair of scissors around his fingers. "I'm rich as fuck now, don't you know? I have all the money in the world to hire every fucking driver in this town and every fucking-"

"Lay off on the cursing man," I hiss. This wasn't even Finnick being drunk, it was just Finnick being Finnick. He'd been this way since high school. I couldn't fault him for it but I could at least make sure he didn't offend anyone tonight. "You better pull your shit together because no one is going to like you showing up like this. Glimmer is gonna have my ass if you do anything to embarrass-"

"Get your panties out of a twist, Mellark," he says, rolling his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. I shove Advil down his throat before he can protest. Better safe than sorry. "I'll be on my best behavior. After all, I am an actor. What good would I be if I couldn't sit up straight for a few hours at your boring party."

The party we were going to was being held in honor of one of my older cast mates, Beetee, who was planning on retiring after we've finished filming Castaways within the next month. I was sad to see the mans careers end but he was pushing fifty-four and now wanted to spend more time with his family. I could see myself so clearly in his shoes. Oscar winner, a beautiful wife, all the money in the world, beautiful children. He'd obtained it all and now only wanted peace and privacy. I sigh. If only it were that easy.

"Seriously, Finnick. This is important to me. I need you to be on my side, at least right here, right now," I say. "Okay?"

He grunts in response and propels himself off of my toilet, sauntering over to my mirror to adjust his tie and fix his hair. Regardless of how glazed and saggy his eyes were, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a major magazine.

Our eyes meet in the mirror after awhile. He gives me a silent message. We're in this together but we always have been. If anything, I'm happy Hollywood hasn't twisted the friendship Finnick and I have built into something different. Cause no matter how annoying and tiresome he may be, he was still my best friend in a lot of ways. Cliche as it sounds, I wouldn't survive without him.

"Let's get this fucking thing over with man," he grunts, pulling on his jacket and ushering me out of the door. I grab my phone and keys at the last minute. There are, for once, no paparazzi waiting for us.

Thom is off for the night but Finnick's driver is more than ready to be of service for the time being. He offers to open the door as we climb in but I stop him. There were still things I wasn't comfortable with no matter how long they'd been happening around me.

"Does Beetee at least have daughters?" Finnick asks, resting his head against the seat. I roll my eyes. "I'm being serious here. If I'm going to be subjected to sitting around and listening to people talk about people who aren't me, I better at least get a bit of eye candy if you know what I mean."

"Finnick, do you know how many great actor's of our generation will be there? How many directors?_ Legends_? The last thing on your mind should be eye candy, man, get your head out of the fucking gutter!" I slap the back of his head like his mother used to do. She would want that if she were still with us.

I know his mother's passing is the only reason for his outlandish behavior lately. She died a few years ago, two or three, but right when Finnick was starting to get his big break and we were finishing up out last bit of school. A heart attack. She was fifty-two.

He never got to mourn her privately. I know that because I was with him most days following his mother's death. There were paparazzi everywhere we went and though the fans concerned were genuine, it was almost suffocating at times.

So versus crying about it, he simply went about his everyday life with the carefree smile on his face though it didn't hold the depth to it that it used too. Only I could see it. His brothers and father too but they were just as private about emotions as he was. The Odiar's never let anyone in, especially now.

I couldn't blame Finnick for finding comfort in random women now. He missed his mother and this was his way of searching for a distraction though it was misguided and wrong. I try to keep out of it. There is no reason for me to get involved within whatever coping mechanisms he wishes to take. But maybe I shouldn't support them so much either.

"I know, Peet, I know," he huffs. The car slows as we come to our destination. We both sink our chairs back instinctively as we pull into the back alleyway of the club. "I just don't like looking lonely while you and Glimmer smile for the cameras."

I climb out of the car. The air is cool - well, about as cool as you can get in L.A. - and I hug my jacket a little tighter as I make my way through security and into the building. I don't have to tell them who I am, they already know. The women waiting to check our coats smile as we pass by them.

Inside isn't at all what I was expecting. I'm not sure what I was expecting but I wasn't picturing Beetee's retirement party to be just that. A real life fucking party.

From the look on Finnick's face, he didn't expect it either. Girls dance from the rafters, some spitting fire while the others juggle bottles on their bodies. Flashing lights float all around the club, ice sculptures in every corner of the room depicting some of Beetee's greatest works. The DJ is playing up beat, contemporary music that differs from the Beethoven I so commonly hear coming from his trailer. Apart from all the scenery, the place is packed to the roof.

"So much for a boring retirement party, huh?" Finnick laughs, fishing shots from the waitresses who pass us. We down them without a second thought. "This is the way I wanna go out, you know. This is the way I'm going out of the fucking industry with strippers at my party and a wad cash as my centerpiece!"

"Amen to that," I mumble, mostly sarcastically, partly serious. In all honesty, this seems strange to me. Never had I imagined Beetee as the type of guy to take part in something like this. I'm almost positive it wasn't his doing at all. But it's a good party and what's not to love about a good party.

...

Glimmer arrives two hours late with her entourage on hand, a big smile on her face as people around us snap pictures of our greeting. Regardless of how hard you try, it's impossible to keep everybody out. No doubt, we'll be on the front page of some magazine tomorrow, engaged and ready to wed! The thought sickens me.

"I was hoping you'd try to be here on time today," I whisper in her ear when she's close enough. She wrecks of cheap wine and cigarettes. I pull away and cough into the sleeve of my dress shirt. "This is important to me Glimmer. I was hoping you could have tried."

"You told me to be here at nine," she slurs back. A friend of hers, Clove, hangs on to her sleeve possessively, giving me sly looks. "I was out with my friends, Peeta. You can't possibly blame me for going out and wanting to have some fun now, can you?"

Her condescending tone puts me on edge and I shrug away from her touch, retreating back to my seat next to Finnick and Marvel, nursing the beer I have been for the past hour and ignoring the looks Glimmer is giving me from her seat across the room. I don't have time to deal with it, not today.

"You hear that, man?" Marvel asks me, showing me some news story on his phone about a kid from back in his hometown. I nod my head, not bothering to read the headline but painting a sympathetic look on my face. "It's crazy what these kids are doing these days. Don't know how to relate or even deal with them to be quite honest."

Thinking about kids, especially of high school age, made me think of nothing but Katniss Everdeen and I don't know why. She was pretty, smart, nice and sarcastic, but I met plenty of girls like that every day. What made her so different? What made this girl weave her way into my mind to the point where I can't go ten seconds without escaping thoughts of her?

I picture her grey eyes, so soft and stern. Something I'd never really seen before, not in anybody. It was the first thing that caught my attention that day, other than almost killing her of course. Then her hair. Her long dark strands that hung so low on her back. I wanted to get lost in the waves forever.

But it wasn't just her physical attributes that sparked something within me. It was the way she spoke to me like she has no biased towards me at all. Like I was Peeta. And a lot of the time, I missed just being Peeta. She didn't look at me in awe or even seem the slightest bit interested. For once it was good to be ignored, even only for a moment.

I snap my eyes back up at the sound of my name. Glimmer stands before me, her arms crossed, a frown on her face. "I've been trying to get your attention for like ten fucking minutes now, where have you been?" A manicured finger taps my skull lightly. I pull away.

"What's up?" I mumble, putting my head into my hands. Suddenly, the musics too loud and the beers too strong and the lights are too much and I wanna get away. But there really is no getting away. Not when you are who you are.

"There was an article that was published about an hour ago on Perez Hilton about our relationship and how we're on the road to 'splitsville'," Glimmer says dramatically. I pay no mind to the blogs but she has a hard time shying away from them. I shrug my shoulders indifferently. "He called me a bitch! A bitch, Peeta, can you believe that? He's here right now! You should go say something."

"Glimmer, you really think it's a smart idea for me to make a big scene, here, at this party with a million camera phones in attendance? What good is that going to do us in this manner?"

"Peeta, you're protecting your girlfriend! That really isn't something people are going to try to spin into some soap opera! Be a real man and go up to him and tell me he can't write things about me - or women in general, I suppose - and call them bitches! That's rude and-"

"He's a fucking blogger, Glimmer!" I call out to her, throwing my hands up in the air in defeat. Truthfully, she had a point and no grown man should be calling women bitches but then again, it was his job to stir up trouble and that is all this was. "He's a guy in need of a life and that's it. Let him be. Don't let it ruin your night!"

She nearly screams at the top of her lungs, drawing attention from all corners of the room. I pull on the sleeve of her blue dress roughly until she's seated next to me. Her face is hot, a blush covering her entire body. She looks about ready to loose her mind. "Do you always have to be so fucking noble? Why can't you stick up for me?"

"It's not my job to," I mutter between my teeth, leaning in so close I know only she will be able to hear me. Over the roar of the music, I doubt anyone can _really_ hear what we're saying but bits and pieces would be enough to turn into a story. "Remember what this arrangement is, Glimmer, and why we're in it."

She rolls her eyes, popping her spearmint scented gum in my face. I close my eyes and back away. "Peeta, don't you ever think, for a moment, that if we weren't put together, I would ever give a second thought to being around you."

"Well that makes two of us," I bite back, not waiting to see her reaction before standing and walking away from her. She makes no move to follow me and I'm grateful. Her friends attend to her and I search for mine.

Instead I find Haymitch and Effie looking even more miserable than I do. Effie nurses a glass of wine that looks untouched and Haymitch four bottles of whisky, all nearly empty. Both look at about the same level of sobriety.

"I didn't see you come in," Effie says as I approach her, throwing her arms around me. Her long, fake eyelashes bore into my skin and I flinch away. Haymitch makes no move to acknowledge me. "I was hoping you didn't cancel on tonight. Before you leave, you'll need to go outside, let the paparazzi take a few photos, take about Beetee a bit. You know, be nice."

"I don't really want to deal with them tonight, Effie, if that's alright. I want to be here but just for Beetee's sake. By the way, have you seen him? I was a little distracted earlier and forget to say my hello's." I scan the crowd for him but it's impossible. I know it will be. I sigh. He'll get my gift.

"Oh yes, he was just over there a moment ago but now i've lost him. It's been a very busy night for him. Lots of people to give thanks to, I'm sure you know," she says. "Oh look! Martin Scorsese has arrived! I must go say hello. Be here when I return, Peeta!"

She shuffles away, leaving a trail of glitter behind her, into the unknown in a crowd of people. I'm left with Haymitch who looks bored out of his mind, mindlessly playing with the straw in his drink.

"Are you having a good night tonight, Haymitch?" I ask politely. He grunts in response. I nod. I hadn't expected anything more. "It's a little much for a retirement party but what can you expect from Hollywood, huh?"

"Well this ain't your poe dunk town, anymore, is it Mellark?" He replies sarcastically. "Too many goddamn people if you ask me. Who wants this many people at their retirement party? Hell, I was invited and I've never met the guy."

"He's accomplished a lot and I think he's finally taking a moment to be proud. You know, of himself," I explain. Beetee is one of the most selfless people I know. He's never taken a moment to accept his shine and after twenty plus years in the business, he finally wants to do it the right way.

"Don't give a damn what you've done when your dead in gone," Haymitch whispers. "Don't give a damn what kind of retirement party you give yourself when no one is around to hear about it anymore. You kids got a lot to learn about the way of the world and you're running out of time to do it."

Running out of time? I was twenty-four and the last thing I felt like, at least right now, was that I was running out of time. Look at Haymitch, nearly twice my age, with loads of time left on his hands. But did he? Did any of us?

I worry about Haymitch alone a lot of the time. He seems to be at the downward slope in life's natural progression with no kids, no family, not very many friends. All he has is his alcohol and in his mind, that's enough. But I fear that that'll be the thing that kills him.

Haymitch wasn't very good company but he was a friend to me. It was a very one-sided friendship but he wasn't someone I wanted to see go anytime soon. "Despite that, I think it's nice to appreciate yourself. Just for a night."

"Boy, you got the whole damn world appreciating you every night," Haymitch laughs. "Little girls all across the land are lying in bed, doing nothing but thinking about what it would be like to know Peeta Mellark!"

It was a weird thought. "And what would you tell them?" He looks confused. "About knowing Peeta Mellark. What would you tell them?"

"I'd tell them he has a pretty weird sense of style and smells like fucking raisin bread all the time." I smile. "And I'd tell them your eyes aren't nearly as blue as they seem. They kinda look like my vomit after I drink too many of those frilly vodka drinks they serve me at the club."

I laugh and after a moment he joins in. "And if someone asked me what it was like to know Haymitch Abernathy I'd tell them he's the coolest drunk I know!"

"Wow, boy, you've touched something deep within my heart and I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget those kind words. Thank you. That was my life's purpose. May God take me willingly now," he says sarcastically. My smile brightens.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finnick waving his hand frantically trying to get my attention. When our eyes finally meet, he waves me over quickly, mouthing words I cannot understand. Whatever it is, it's urgent. I look at Haymitch sadly. "Save me a drink for later, would you?" He nods and I'm off.

I weave through crowds and crowds of people till I finally reach him. I'd forgotten I'd brought Finnick, in all honesty. "What's wrong, man?"

He turns me around, hands massaging my shoulders tightly. He angles my head to the left, manipulating me until I'm looking just where he wants me to be looking. Right at Annie Cresta. I roll my eyes and shrug his hands away. "You're fucking kidding me, right Finn?"

"Peeta, she's the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he drools, his eyes wide. "I've never seen hair that color or eyes that green - other than mine of course." I roll my eyes. "I'm a new man, Peet. I see it within her. I see a new me. I've got to meet her, marry her, give her children, something!"

I ignore his words because I didn't have enough fingers and toes to count how many times I'd heard him say this. He would get this crazy about girls in high school and in college and the few actresses he's gone out with since making it big. Finnick was a romantic at heart and sought for true love but didn't know the first thing about loving anyone other than himself.

And not that Finnick didn't have the capabilities of being a good guy, it was just he didn't know how to set them into motion. I liked Annie too. The last thing I wanted was him making his move on her and then ruining her for the rest of her life. I wouldn't be surprised. I'd seen it happen.

"Not Annie, Finnick, c'mon," I say, hands on his shoulders, moving him away from her. "She's a nice girl with big dreams who doesn't need some Hollywood actor holding her back, man. There are a million girls in this room. Just look for another one."

There were plenty of girls here, all which could be disposable who I didn't have to talk to everyday. They would all be better suited for Finnick but even as I say the words and physically guide him away, he pushes against me with all his might.

"Annie!" He yells at the top of his lungs. "Annie!" She turns around, a drink in her hand in a pretty navy blue dress.

"Hello," she says awkwardly. "Hey, Peeta." I wave. "Who's your friend?"

Finnick looks to me and I look at him and we're both warring back and forth between each other without saying a word. Finally he says, "Excuse Peeta here, he's a little drunk. I'm Finnick. Finnick Odiar."

They shake hands and even in the dark club, I can see the blush on Annie's face. He's charming her already and try as I might, there isn't anything I can do. "Annie Cresta," she says, leaning into his touch. He hasn't let go of her hand yet. "I see you a lot hanging around set with Peeta. You two must be very close."

He leaps into our life story, leaving out important details but getting the point across. Annie seems interested and nods along, her eyes never wavering to me as he drags on and on and on. I get the feeling I'm not wanted - mostly by Finnick's toe in my shin - and I leave, again, lonely in a sea of millions.

I look back once. Maybe Annie would be good for Finnick but, honestly, I doubt it would turn into anything other than casual flirtation. She didn't seem like the type to let things go too far and Finnick certainly wasn't the guy to let things get emotional.

I make a trip back to the alleyway Finnick and I were dropped of in, sulking in the free air outside, not feeling so trapped. It's nice, being out in the open air, it reminds me of home. I just wish I could see the stars.

A throaty laugh breaks me from my concentration, two drunk people stumbling their way into a parked car before speeding away. I roll my eyes. If only that would be me tonight.

I wonder what Katniss was doing, who she was with. She was probably preparing for class, having a glass of wine with her room mate or maybe a boyfriend. It just occurs to me I'd seized to ask her about any men in her life. But she would have mentioned it, no? Well, I hadn't exactly mentioned Glimmer. Not openly but that was common knowledge.

I send her a text, something simple. _Hey, this is Peeta. _I don't get a reply right away. _I really hope this is Katniss because, if it's not, I might be in a shit ton of trouble._

This time, the reply is immediate. _I was just about to say, I don't think it's smart for big time Hollywood actor's to just be texting random numbers. You're going to get yourself into something some day, Mellark. _

I smile. _So this is Katniss? Well I'm glad it's you. Wanted to know if you wanted to meet about the car sometime this week. I've got money ready. _

_Tomorrow is the only day that works for me, _the message reads. _If you can meet tomorrow, then we can get this done._

It sounds like a business transaction - and I guess, truthfully, that's what it is - but it doesn't seem right. Not coming from Katniss. So to lighten the mood, I send: _It's a date._

* * *

Thank you all so much for the tremendous support! I couldn't be more humbled.

In other news, I've started writing a book. I've wanted to for a very, very long time but just never got a real story in my head. Recently, my family has gone through some traumatic experiences and, out of it, i've been inspired to turn them into a novel. I hope, if all goes as planned and I truly finish, it'll be as inspiring to others as the Hunger Games trilogy was to me!

If any of you are in the process of writing a book or have gone through it and have any tips, please leave a review or PM! I can use all the help I can get.

Thank you for reading.

-B


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